


Gone Native

by Sociopathbrony



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Human ish!Crowley, Minor Character Death, Rescue Missions, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sociopathbrony/pseuds/Sociopathbrony
Summary: Hell fire may not effect demons but it certainly has killed people. Being somewhere in between those results in Crowley meeting his judgement before God but God has their own plans. Plans that Aziraphale is unfortunately fully unaware of in regards to anything.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 23
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	Gone Native

**Author's Note:**

> Art work by theplaidfox. Thank you much for the lovely scenes, it was certainly fun doing this with you.

Just shut your mouth and die, Aziraphale.” Gabriel’s hand impatiently swung towards the spire in the middle of the room. Crowley had long since gown over the initial shock he felt at the open nature of the execution. He expected such things from hell easily, but angels. They were good once, but that was a long time ago. He grimaced at the fate Aziraphale would've faced, in the company of this violet eyed prick no less. He hesitantly stepped in, making sure to keep a miracle or two up on the precious outfit.

It was a comfortable warmth, he decided. He smirked with wide eyes and took a breath of flame to spit back at the onlookers. A shocked looking Gabriel was distracted eyeing his hand over Crowley's fatal antics. He nearly scoffed at the idiocy before gripping coughs tore from his lungs. The fire was getting warmer and harder to breath. The smoke burned his throat. Crowley didn't know how long it took after he saw his angel's perfect nails crack and split off, cauterizing immediately, as sheets of black burned flesh grew heavy and pulled from his arm, filling the jacket sleeves inside. It felt like some very short minutes, but from any other's point of view, it was hardly two seconds. Panic rose in the serpent's blue eyes. 

“Wait- nononon-” Crowley collapsed into dust, leaving the now unprotected outfit behind to burn.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale waited patiently at the park bench, where he and Crowley had agreed to meet, and it was getting late. And if Aziraphale knew one thing, other than anything relating to Crowley, it was that heaven didn't dawdle with its punishments.

“I'm concerned. There's hardly a reason for why he could be so tardy. Even normally he'd be the one arriving on time if not early for our little meetings. I don't suppose you have any. ..?”

The squirrel on the arm rest next to him chirped. It looked up expectantly.

“I didn't suppose so.” He sighed before eyebrows drew close and he glanced at his companion. “Oh goodness, what if something terrible had happened to him. I've kept telling him over the years heaven is ruthless. They could've locked him up to try and dig out the secret to why he's immune, try and reverse it for themselves. What makes him, well me, so different from the other angels. They could've already found out he's not me by now! And killed him properly, or-” he bit his lip and resettled himself. “No, there's no sense in that reasoning.” He miracled several nuts in his spindly hand and settled them on the arm rest near the squirrel. “I mustn't stay here much longer or I'll look suspicious. He never did show me where he stays, so I suppose it's back to my bookshop for now. He'll know to find me there.” Aziraphale stood and straightened the jacket and scarf before heading off. 

* * *

Crowley scrunched his eyes, though they were already closed. His hand came up to rub between them and they shot open at the feeling. He moved it back as if inspecting a manicure, but rather than the one he was expecting, before him were his own hands. Crowley stood, his wings automatically going to balance him when the onslaught of dizziness arose with him.

“Wait… no, what?” he looked around and went inspecting himself again, but I was on a schedule. 

“Crowley.”

“God? Is that you?” he spun around searching for a source to direct attention. “Like really? After all this time, not to mention the flood, your _son_ , _armageddon_ , you show up _now,_ of all times. Why!” his arms flew up in anger and his wings beat aimlessly. “What's the point that now is so much more important? Now!” 

“You were cast out for such behaviour Crowley, don't make me regret letting you stay.” Crowley scowled in response. Then he frowned my words dawned on him.

“ _Stay!?_ I _died!_ Or at least I thought I had. How am I here, where _is_ here?” stunned in shock, Crowley couldn't think of how to move about to suit his ire. This only made to fuel it.

“You ask to many questions Crowley.”

“You think I hadn't gotten that the first time you put it so bluntly?” he shouted at the sky. It was difficult to shout at someone whose presence was simultaneously in every atom except occasionally those few over there. 

“You have so little faith in yourself Crowley.” he stopped his gesticulating short. “You are here for a reason, one you won't see, but someone important will. Goodbye Crowley.” I sent him off before he could protest.

Crowley now stood before a large golden pearlescent gate that reflected all variety of shimmering colours, including a few humans had never seen until they approached it. This effect of colour was achieved through light, mirrors, and the fact that this was the gate to heaven. Crowley could tell because a slightly bored looking St. Peter stood by dutifully. 

“Excuse me, where am I?”

The man looked up in surprise. This was largely in part because Peter hadn't actually seen all that many people in the past few decades. Given how many people actually did in a given day and how long the sorting process took regardless of any altered timesteam in heaven, it had been decided quite a while ago to streamline the process, otherwise there rose the problem that the majority of those at the end of the line were deemed to go to hell, even if initially they were, in essence, good people who had grown irate over waiting in a line for what was perceived to be a year or more. Nowadays, Saint Peter just oversaw those who were arguably good, or neutral cases needing a second opinion. Crowley was a mix of the two categories. The only problem being he wasn't human. 

Saint Peter perked up noticeably at having something to do. “Ah! *ahem* Beholden are you to heaven's gates, your sole obstruction to the Almighty’s glorious kingdom, being your heart is pure and light.”

Crowley stared, brows furrowing in confusion. It had been at least a few centuries since anyone quite spoke like that. “I think I've got it, but just in case, can you repeat that one more time?”

Saint Peter sighed. “People in your days just don't have an appreciation for presentation anymore do they.” He stood with slight more decorum befitting a professional manner and gestured to the gates. “You are at heaven's gates. You may pass if you prove yourself good by the eyes of god. Which is what I am here to oversee.”

“Oh!” Crowley shoved his hands in the now too small pockets, given that his clothes had returned to his own, and sauntered over. “Well I can help speed up the process there. I'm a demon. Being evil in the eyes of god is sort of intrinsic to my being whether I'd like it to or not.”

“Well, you are here, meaning that there must be good in you” Peter returned, missing the fact that Crowley was not speaking in metaphor regarding his demonhood.

“What? But this is the entrance to heaven, and I am literally a demon, by all reason i should be melted into a pile of goo or something. Original sin, you know that, with the serpent yeah? That was me.” there had been far too much wrongness for such a short period, in Crowley's opinion. He wondered in the back of his thoughts for a moment whether Aziraphale had gotten back yet. He certainly hoped so otherwise being stuck in heaven would be the least of his worries.

Peters reply was gentle hey firm, really the best he could manage given the situation. “You are, in fact, here which therefore means you must be human and you must've been at least _somewhat_ good or else I wouldn't be taking a look at you. Speaking of which, we should get on with it. Come over here.” he waved Crowley closer. 

A vertical mirror of raw firmament pooled before them, replaying Crowley's life

“Oh come on what's this?”

“The beginning, when you started making more decisions in your life, when things first changed and you were challenged.”

On the screen, a more feminine Crowley was running from the house, muted shouting in the background. Crowley's face contorted to one of recognition. 

“Wait, I remember that. That's when I had started questioning who I was and mum kicked me out cause she didn't want to deal with me. I had to leave all my siblings behind. I don't think they even cared.”

Saint Peter lay a comforting hand on Crowley's shoulder with pursed lips. “You had a hard start to life, didn't you?”

“Being cast out of my home? You think? I was only- wait a minute. What are you doing? None of this happened!” Crowley tried to turn away from the screen, showing him the life of a human he's never met, despite the striking resemblance. It finally occurred to him to raise a hand and snap his fingers to teleport away, back to earth. Nothing happened but a snapping noise. 

“We can speed through the wandering years.” the video responded automatically. 

“Fourteen, i was only fourteen. Not even or of middle school and she kicked me out. On the street. Where was i supposed to go?”

“Where did you go?”

It changed to Crowley amongst a group, and not a nice looking one at that. They sneered and grinned and the picture shifted to a damp building and a drug exchange from Crowley to a young adult who had just hit a rough patch in her first year of college. Looking on, Crowley could tell this want her first time and she would definitely be back no matter the price. The memory sunk in until he knew this not by the look in her eyes or feebled frame in the video but because he had guiltily been there. 

Crowley frowned defensively. “Well I had to go somewhere, OK?” He shouted. I was wrong, broken, didn't know better and suddenly everyone had all these labels on me and nowhere to turn. At least I tried.”

It changed again to help fill in the gaps of memory. Crowley doing small things to undermine the whole operation. Cocaine mixed with powdered milk to discourage people, jobs done poorly, and exaggerated small tasks made to sound important, protecting children whenever he could without too much suspicion. 

“Why not go to the police?” Poster asked tentatively. Tears had started streaming down Crowley's face. I didn't think I could. They'd’ve killed me if they knew I'd been-” the memories were all jumbled for a moment here. The concept that a police force could have done anything against hell was laughable at best. The closest to come was angels and some reason the word had simply lodged itself in Crowley's mind, disrupting the forming of the new memories. “The police couldn't have done anything. And they'd have killed me too, given the chance and knowing who I was. One didn't but that was too few and I was scared and desperate and lonely, I couldn't lose him.” Crowley's eyes went wide and he snapped facing Peter. “Where is he, do you know? What happened to him?” he shook the saint by his arms before breaking down in a heap. 

Saint Peter knelt down with him with a comforting hand. “You tried to do good in you life even with everything against you.”

“I want to be good enough, I needed to be better, I-he” he dug his palms into his eyes as his breath came short.

“You were good enough. Come on now. Dry your eyes and up you go.” Peter gently brought Crowley to his feet and held him tight until the sobbing ceased. “You ready now?”

“I made it? I actually made it?” he said, brushing off the tear steaks with his forearm before running fingers through his hair. Peter hummed affirmatively in reply. “What about all that ‘non believers go to hell’ shtick then? Like, i was raised with… this” he gestured generally. “but i mean, it never really caught on.”

“Oh, that was revised pretty early on, apparently, after the practices with the killing and sacrifice died down. Now heaven just appears to people as they expect it to. Now come on, let's get you settled.” Peter walked up to the massive gates with his proportionally miniscule key and stuck it into the solid door and turned. They slowly drifted open revealing the shift light behind them. “Now, you just walk through and you'll be all set.” 

Crowley nodded, worrying his bottom lip as he admired the soft glow. He paused before the final step to turn to Peter. “Thank you” Peter nodded in return and in a flash of light Crowley was gone, in more ways than one.

* * *

Aziraphale sat in the back room of his bookshop, stacks of various writings on angels, demons, heaven, anything with a chance of telling him how to contact a demon. Given these were written by humans, the subsequent chance of any of these methods working was about equal to heaven and hell drawing up a peace agreement. But it had been almost a week and Aziraphale was running out of options.

* * *

He had a comfortably small two room cottage with as large a garden he could hope for. No one was nearby for a mile and a half, but if he deigned to walk into town it would take however long he wished. Heaven was not a spatially static place. It twisted and formed as needed in the areas where the people resided. Residents also had no need for the earthly functions bodies once required, but quite a few cafes and patisseries had opened regardless. 

It felt as though he had certainly always lived there, just awoken from a daydream. He went to collect his gardening tools he knew to be in the little storage shed connected to the house on the side with the sun room's wall. The sun room was lovely, he thought. And it looked like a pleasant night out, perfect for stargazing. He took the spade and hand rake and gloves out to the vegetable patches. The snow and cold had surely just subsided, the beds already prepped from last fall. Now all was needed was to plant. This put a stop to his actions and he smiled carelessly. 

"Oh. All caught up in planting I forgot the plants." He turned to the perennials that had apparently just started to get colour back. "I'm sure the market or something has some by now." He patted the leaves and stood. He readjusted his sunglasses and brushed off his stylish outfit, or what he surely thought was stylish, and started down the road.

Sometimes the road was paved, most often when Crowley decided to think he had a car. He always knew exactly the kind of car it was, as for why he was less sure. Perhaps because he simply enjoyed knowing what he liked and put in effort to do so. At least that was his excuse. The road this time was smoothly graveled and narrow. Nice enough to walk on and easily find flowers on the way without looking like it didn't belong. It took exactly 6 minutes and 41 seconds for him to make it to town in a good mood this time. There happened to be a plant nursery nearby too, a small one, it looked like. Small ones were always a good sign, it meant that the person truly cared for all the plants they raised. He was glad they were willing to share their work and effort.

The bell jingled and a kid, young adult really, came up smiling, holding a tray of succulents. "Welcome, ah-what are you looking for?" They spoke awkwardly, but were certainly trying. 

"Some new plants for my garden. I was thinking of trying some tomatoes this year."

"Mhm! Their right to back left. Are you planning on doing anything for the start of spring? There's a festival being hosted to celebrate."

"Oh, sounds lovely. When's that?" 

"Next week at the official start of spring! There's going to be a bonfire in the town center, and at sunrise we'll set candle boats down the stream nearby to welcome the sun back, and wash up for a new start, and plant for the season and decorate with flowers like snow drops or pansies. And most people will be cleaning up their house sometime in that or the day after, but still! And if you'd like to bring a dish, there'll be a feast."

"Slow down now, don't want you fainting now when i still need to find my tomatoes."

She smiled "mmn, sorry. The spring festival is my favourite."

"Im sure to see you there then, yeah?" He pat her head as he headed towards the back of the shop for his plants.

"See you there!"

With carrot, lettuce, broccoli and pak choi in hand, he started heading out. The doors light bell rang as he pushed his way through, and eyes caught on a bookshop across the street. Some of the starter carrots slipped from his hold. The young shop owner came out in worry.

"Is everything ok? You look like you've seen a spirit."

The bookshop faded before him, leaving him stunned. "I-". She leaned down to get the carrot and replace it with the others. "I feel like I have, but I don't know of what."

"It's certainly around that time. You ought to be getting back home before its dark. Spirits and sorts may still lurk about." She retreated back inside, still smiling kindly. 

The walk back home was long, as was the setting of the sun, at least to Crowley's eyes. There was still enough light to last getting the plants situated and relax laying back to watch the last of the light shift through the colours of the rainbow before the sun and himself drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Aziraphale snapped the book closed and set it with the majority of his exhausted collection. He removed his glasses before burying his face in his hands, still Crowley's hands really, and breathed. For an unnecessary function, it lifted a pressure from Aziraphale's chest, holding his breath through the last few books. Though it did nothing to ease his panic. 

"Oh Crowley, where are you? Why can't I _sense_ you? Humans are so inventive and brilliant, yet there's nothing. Frankly I shouldn't be all that surprised, but still. I- no, I've mentioned that already haven't I? Dear God, give me a sign."

* * *

”It shouldn't have done that, what happened? Where is he?” the irate archangel spun around glowing at anyone in his live of sight. Then Michael appeared, taking quick note of the atmosphere. 

“There seems to be a problem downstairs with the demon, it's it the same with the angel?” she asked, cooly masking her dire concern. 

“The demon’s disappeared too?” he turned to Micheal. 

“No, que the opposite. The water had no effect. Where has Aziraphale gone?” her brow furrowed.

Gabriel threw his hands up. “That's what I'm trying to figure out! Can we use the earth observaron files for this, now that some lazy department is off their asses.”

Michael nodded. “I'll check right away.” Gabriel only grumbled in response.

Now, earth being as large a place it is, is actually quite hard to observe, especially when trying to observe very specific individuals and more so when those individuals are not on earth but rather never left heaven as crowley has. The best they can do, after a few days of tracking, is find that wiley demon, who despite still looking like the demon Crowley, is in fact Aziraphale. They observe him sit on a bench for some hours before leaving. They track him to the bookshop of the mysteriously disappeared angel, who in actuality just then entered the book shop, and they wait for him. An unfortunate convention of the observation system is that it is not god and therefore not omnipotent and can not see through walls, for if it could, Micheal would have learned much sooner that the supposed demon was acting far more like Aziraphale than he should and that he was, in fact, alone. Three days more, they tried for a different answer.

“There's nothing there, Gabriel.” Michael insisted as they both crowded over the shoulder of the angel working the controls.

“Go back farther.” he demanded insistently.

The video mirror spun back retracing to the end of armageddon. In flashes of light Gabriel and Beelzebub had departed, leaving the other angel and demon to bus back to London off route. They got off and headed back to Crowley's flat at which nothing could be seen regardless and was sped through until the Aziraphale was seen leaving. He walked with a strut back to the book shop, opened the newly restored door and-.

“Wait go back, just before Azkraphale leaves” Gabriel watched intently at the odd walk he'd never seen on any angel, even one as strange as Aziraphale. “Ha! It's not him! They traded corporations somehow! Only a snake could use legs so poorly.”

“How did we miss that?” Michaels eyes went wide. “Surely someone would've sensed the change in energy, they can't have masked that. And if they had just switched, the demon shouldn't have perished.”

“We can figure that out later. Right now we have an angel to visit.” he turned and Michael swiftly followed.The bell jingles at the front before the door slammed into a bookcase.

"Excuse you, I believe we're-!"

"Aziraphale. You can't really have believed your plan would protect you long, did you?" Gabriel stood menacingly, smiling in that hideously Gabriel way. Micheal beside him kept watch over a lowly demon holding a vase that roared like the sun but far far more dangerous.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and vanished, not keen on the conversation that would surely end in his demise.

He hasn't thought to actually think of a place to escape to, and before him stood a lovely cliff side outside of a small town looking over the ocean, a view he couldn't dare savor. His, Crowley's, long legs paced him back and forth. "How did they? No, no time for that. Unless…" flashes of Crowley having been tortured flashed through his mind. His resolve sunk into a black pit darker than Hell. 

* * *

Aziraphale disappeared before their eyes.

"Shit! Where's he gone!?" He turned to Micheal and held out his hand. Give me your phone. Grimly she handed it over, watching by as he typed at the ethereal screen. "Gabriel. He flew off- find him. Great. Keep tracking him. It might take a while." He hung up and pocketed it. "Gone over to some small town that way. Come on" he barked.

They appeared again near a towns edge, no traitorous angel to be seen. The angel observing had described a high ocean view. Looking around, there was only one possible direction. "This way." He took off again, the other two following. Now before them stood a pacing angel, still in the demon's body.

A flash from behind him and again appeared the angels and demon. 

"Get him! Before he escapes!" Gabriel shouted wrathfully.

Aziraphale glared with glazed eyes at the demon who started a run for attack, ready to swing the pot over. He hesitated and Micheal stormed past with sword ready, only to slice through the air.

Gabriel dialed a second time. "Where now?"

"How do you mean he's left!? Where could he possibly leave to!?" Gabriel drew back his face in a strange mix of disgust and confused amusement. "He can't get to heaven anymore, he's not an angel." It turned to a scowl and he hung up. "Now two wandering annoyances somewhere in the infinite expanse of heaven. Wonderful."

"He's left earth?" Micheal asked seriously.

"Foolish enough to try and find the demon himself, no doubt."

"Oooo, no. I didn't sign up for-" the demon underling's existence stopped there as Micheals sword disintegrated him. The pot fell. It landed gently in Gabriels hands.

"Now really." He frowned in disgust at the smoke stained jar, black ash rubbing off on his hands. "Unless your willing to use the hellfire yourself, there's no point in killing the carrier."

"We'll get another. But we need to find that angel before he causes problems." She glared. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Get on with it then."

* * *

The very exposed room was brightly lit, but no one around to see. Heaven was always eerily empty, not that he'd know all that well beyond the occasional reports. He dashed to the nearest door, no longer caring for being caught. He was here to get Crowley back.

Stairways had convenient directories for the floors on the wall next to them, which were both helpful and not, given heaven went beyond spatial constraints. However, aziraphale was an angel.

"Aha! An archive. Something has to be there." He opened his wings, fully manifested in their corporeal form. He sped off with no glance to their wretched state, nor the feathers that floated in his place.

The archives went on for what could only be miles. As anything does in heaven, though, it appeared to him as he expected it to, and organized system of rows upon columns of shelved books. Even then he had no idea where to start. "Starting with demons, how do they die?" The D section was vast, as any section, but as well alphabetized as Aziraphale expected it to be. He slunk a yellowed tome off the high shelf labelled 'Dealing with the Occult - Volume 7 _Ceasement'_. He flipped through the pages and frowned. Angels aren't occult, I'm- well maybe some are." Flipping to the end heralded nothing, he flipped back to the cover, a small number at the bottom 'part 1-angels'. He shoved it back, taking the next in the order. He only just began flipping when a door opened on the far side and two angels walked in. Significantly lesser, assigned to the jobs of watching mortals.

"Why that?"

"We were told to search, and I only know anything about one thing. If anyone was competent, they surely could've done this themselves, so I'll do it my way."

"But really, a demon getting into heaven?

"Native! Gone native! Oh goodness, I'm stupid." Aziraphale clamped his mouth shut as the two angels turned towards him. He dropped the book and disappeared, reappearing some rows down and two feet to the left. "If Crowley was mistaken for human, died, where..? Oh I should've visited." Barely mouthing the words, his fingers skinned over the spines pausing finally at a chance. The title interpreted as 'Design of Categorization and Archiving: Human Souls - Volume 1'. He drew in a hopeful breath before flipping through the pages. Page 341. The angels were now calling out for him to show himself by the previous shelves, calling in to report one of the potential wandering traitors. "Finally as accordance to interests and compatibility, as often derived from period and personal influences." Aziraphale's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What period would he even be considered from? Does it matter?" He flipped further down, a directory. "Maybe, possible, or that. Oh! That looks close!" He smiled, whispering and pointing. Finally, first time in the past week, he smiled in hope. Here tucked the book under his arm and took off flying towards the mortal's heaven. 

Far above, it looked dreary as anything. An expanse of white as far as could see, having an angel's sight, it was... unfathomable. All across the plain were figures, phasing in and out, through each other, unaware, and they were infinite. All the space that could exist was taken up by figures from all sorts of lives. To anyone else who didn't know how it worked, it was chaos. "Where, where, where, it should be around here somewhere." Aziraphale's panicked wing beat echoed above the shimmering ethereal plane. The infinite souls going about their afterlife in their designated phases of existence. The forms all meshed together in a vaguely transparent haze, impossible to discern them from each other. 

Aziraphale paused in the air to reopen the book. "Where's he supposed to be!?" He spun looking across the expanse for any clues. There were two angels in the distance, heading right across the horizon. Aziraphale dove down to hide amongst the souls best he could, or at least not be obvious in the open. They seemed to more so be going diagonally, past him. 

"Right, so, regardless of the highest-ups being daft as they are, how'd he get put into p65874? I mean, demon, yeah? "

" _Regardless_ , they could've done this themselves. It wasn't hard, all the records are there."

It was the same one as from the archive. Demon caught his attention, and belatedly "Records?" He gasped. They probably knew where he was. Where Crowley was.

"I say we spite them and just take our time." 

The other huffed. "A whole two days after we were put on guard for look out before you checked the records. Seems like you were already taking your time."

Aziraphale slowly trailed far behind them, waiting to be led to his goal.

"Yeah, but now the other one's broken in. If we don't get this one first, the other will, then what's the point."

"What's the point of any of that? Like really? It makes no sense."

"Crowley" Aziraphale thought to himself. Tears started streaming down his sharp bony cheeks from serpentine eyes as he trailed after the angels steadily gliding above in no rush. "Crowley, I'll find you, I will, dear, then you can come back." He wiped his eyes with the grey so-called scarf.

* * *

The rest of the week went much the same, even with everything different. The town itself was bustling to ready for the festival. Crowley continued with other prep work on the garden and cleaned up the small cottage sometime three days after after being told of it. He was rearranging the furniture when a voiced echoed through him.

_"Crowley, what am I to do?"_

"What!? Who in the world was _that!?_ Where are you?"

_"Humans, the brilliant things they can do, yet none have gotten the slightest guess right as for how to contact a demon who's dead."_

"Oi now, im _what_?" Crowley paced around the house, looking for any source, but it only seemed to follow him.

 _"Back to it I su po se----"_ The voice faded out. 

"What? No, angel come-" sudden throbbing stopped him short.

The interruptions plagued him up to the festival, pleas of safety, of signs, of desperation, minutes of sobbing, always accompanied with flashes of memories he was sure weren't his own. Sitting in a dark room filled with books and wine with a slightly pudgy cream toned figure. That bookshop again and burning heat and grief. Ducks. That one was most confusing perhaps, it was just ducks. A bunch of them and tiny versions surrounding his feet and laughter from someone else. Probably the cream fellow. It always faded out when any sort of context could be had, right when it sounded like the voice's attention was pulled to something else.

_"Crowley where are you"_

"In my home, okay?" But this wasn't quite his home was it? There was paradoxically something missing and something too much to feel exactly right.

_"Crowley, dear I'll get you back, I promise."_

"Back where… back where, I'm right here." A table at a nice restaurant, middle of the room, delectable looking cake in front of the other, a glass of wine for both.

_"Oh Crowley *sniffle* please, please, show me you're alright."_

"Stop it, stop it stop it. Just shhhhh for a second." Ducks again. But this time with a slight bit more shouting. One of them bit him. They must've heard him.

That stressed desperate voice called out anywhere from only once a day, to several, keeping him up at night at times with its desperation and heartbreaking pleas. Crowley's eyes streamed with tears with them, annoyed by the voice's continuation and equally desperately missing whoever it belonged to.

The day of the festival, there was only a short plea in the morning. _"Oh Crowley, where are you? Why can't I sense you? Humans are so inventive and brilliant, yet there's nothing. Frankly I shouldn't be all that surprised, but still. I- no, I've mentioned that already haven't I? Dear God, give me a sign."_

And it stopped. Of all the days for it to thankfully stopped it was this day.

He had a quiet breakfast, nervously listening in on the sounds of daily goings on. It almost worried him. He put on a jacket and took up a flower basket to make his way to forest-field down the road to get some flowers, holly, and mistletoe for decorations for the festival. Did something happen to him on the other side? Wasn't all that good at cooking, so this was surely the least he could do. A collection of violet pansies, deep purple honeywort and strikingly red kaffir lilies were dispersed amongst the holly branches. Surely nothing drastic happened? The mistletoe was a fair bit more difficult to reach, unfortunately.

The sweet calm of no voice bring a sudden barrage of distant cloudy thoughts broke as he went down the road to town. Two minutes to the festival grounds.

The figures started a slow descent down far above Aziraphale. They'd been chasing away, blind to his presence, leaving now as his only chance. He lifted himself above the haze and bolted to their expected point.

"What the- hey! The other one! Afrael, the other one!" The both of them zeroed in on Aziraphale distancing ahead of them. "Stop!"

The plan rushed through Aziraphale's thoughts stopping abruptly at how to get Crowley out. "Find him first, just need to find him" he repeated. All of these figures here, none of them were in this celestial phase, he had flown through hundreds while following those two without a single reaction, what's to say crowley would be different? 

The demon came into view with a wicker basket of flowers, looking up confused. He shrugged as Aziraphale came screeching to a halt. Desperately he took hold of Crowley's shoulders, only for him to step through as if the angel wasn't there. Tears drained down his face. He looked back, the other two were still some ways off but closing quickly. 

He met the matching yellow eyes with an unbridled intensity. "Crowley, Crowley please. I've come for you, my dear. You just need to see me. Just need to-" Aziraphale choked. "Oh what point is there. Crowley my dear-"

"Stop, please just stop, I can't think." Crowley held his head and dropped to a crouch, Aziraphale following. 

"Crowley?"

"I know, something's wrong or whatever, but shhhhh. If once you could hear me."

Aziraphale wiped the tears away. "Crowley, dear, you can hear me?"

His face turned to shock. "Wait, what? That's different." 

"Oh goodness, you can! I've been such a fool. Oh Crowley, I'm here now my love. I just need you to concentrate. There's not much time. The angels, they're..." he paused. They should've been there by now as their speed. Slowly he turned to check. They stood only some 3 meters away. The other one not-Afrael, waved with a smile. Afrael just sighed with a 'get on with it' motion. "They're waiting actually."

"Angels? Waiting? What in the world's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll explain later. Actually… hold for a tad moment, dear. Maybe they'd be willing to help. Don't moved from this spot, yeah?" Aziraphale stood and started away. 

Crowley felt his breath leave him a moment, like something being dragged out. "Oh, that felt _weird._ "

"What? Are you okay?" He rushed back the few feet. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine, just, weird for a short moment. Go talk to your angel buddies, yeah?"

He tentatively turned again, walking slower with half an eye on crowley behind him. He rubbed his chest, it seeming to calm him. The angels met him half way, nodding in greeting.

"Afrael, and?"

"Nagiel"

"Nagiel. I don't believe we've ever met. I'm" He held out a hand, no mind to its human origin. They took it regardless. 

"Aziraphale." Nagiel interrupted, taking his hand. "Wouldn't be surprised. We've been stuck watching over souls since there were enough souls to warrant watching." They said with a smile. 

"Oh. Ah, might I ask why your not turning us in?" He returned his hands to twiddle in front of him all innocent like. 

"We've been watching human souls since forever. Unfortunately, one gets pretty attached whether they want to or not in the presence of humans." Afrael put in. "Least we could do is give you a few minutes with you're human."

"Well he's not really…" his blushing was a stark contrast to the usual looks in the borrowed face. "And he _is_ a demon, that is. Wouldn't that warrant some short of negative reaction? Not that I'd prefer it." He waved his hands all flustered.

"As far as we're concerned, he got into heaven. Whose chosen is kind of ineffable, but they always, everyone we've ever seen, are good. He got in." Nagiel nodded along to Afraels statement earnestly. 

"Oh. So, would you perhaps mind helping us a tad? I don't want you any trouble of course, but if you'd be so kind?"

"Oh we'll be fine" Afrael chimed. "They don't even know who we are enough to try their propaganda with us. We just watch the souls, the lowest of the jobs. Taking care of the humans, making sure they're happy." His smile went strained, relaxing again to gentle by the end. 

They all walked back over top crowley who had shifted to being cross-legged and intent on distracting himself with weaving a flower crown. He placed it delicately on his head as Nagiel bent over to place a hand on Crowley's shoulder and stand him up. Crowley shocked at the touch, actual real touch, phantom may it be, and followed its direction. His form grew more opaque, the flowers a mix of brilliant reds with tiny violet petals here and there.

Crowley's gaze turned from the angel in front of him to the one with his face, eyes going wide. "What in the-" The shock was cut off by the lanky figured Aziraphale tackling him with a hug, lifting in the air. "What the, put me down, who are you?" 

"Oh dear, oh my precious love" he bit his lip, setting him down carefully. "Sorry about that, I thought you had been dead. Well, i mean sorry of, but like really, actually-"

"I thought you'd be, blonder. And softer, and not me. And you're voice sounds different, notably, like _mine_."

"Well we never did the switch back so, wait, thought? Crowley, you don't remember?"

"Ok, sorry to break up the fest, seriously, it sounds like you really do need to sort out that memories thing," Afrael turned Aziraphale by the shoulder, "but they'll notice we took someone out of their phase eventually. You need to go. There's an exit that way. Long as you stay together your shouldn't have problems getting him out."

Aziraphale nodded, Crowley looked distantly confused. His hand was gently pulled towards the apparent opening that resided some ways away on this expanse of white. Looking around, it suddenly it occurred to him he'd be late setting up for the festival. Nevermind having dropped the flowers, the whole town was gone, but it couldn't be. 

"Wait! Stop…" he stopped short and stood with his arm across his waist, still held in the angel's hand.

"Wha-what? Crowley, dear, we have to go before we're caught." Aziraphale looked back at him, full of worry and trepidation. After just getting him back, he couldn't lose him again. The demon just stood staring behind him at the fallen basket, tears pricked at his eyes. "Crowley, come on, please…"

"I can't leave them, they were so good, to someone like me, and the festival, I never got her name- where are we going anyways?" He tugged his hand out of the grip.

"I-Crowley, home, we're going home, don't you remember anything? Your apartment? The bookshop?" His voice went strained.

Crowley turned back to him in shock. "Bookshop? Wha- that's real? No, didn't it burn down? I clearly remember knowing it burned down."

"Adam restored it, but now really isn't the time to explain that."

"Yes i get it, we're in a hurry or else something, but I'm not sure I even want to leave."

It was Aziraphale's turn to stand in shock. "Crowley- "

"But I want to know so badly what all those memories were, and who you are. I know your important to me. And you said angels, which means if this is heaven, im dead. But you make it sound like I'll come back to life, so if I die again, I could come back here, unless im kicked out for having left. Kicked out of heaven again cause someone i know is leaving. And curiosity. That'd be cruel."

A thundering rang across the sky and Afreal shouted in warning. "Oi! I think they found out! Get out of here already!"

"Crowley…" Aziraphale held out his hand. 

He looked into the angel's eyes and saw nothing but fear and love. He bit his lip and took the proffered hand, deigning to keep silent until they got out. It seemed wrong to say anything suggesting he took one side or the other when his mind continued to spin between the two worlds. Ultimately he knew this curiosity and longing would win over eventually.

Aziraphale dragged them out to the tunnel, which acting as a portal deposited them on the edge of heaven, right where one could look down on the earth from high above. Very high above. Far too high for a human. But still technically a spirit, whether he had a body or not.

"Okay, Crowley, I'm not sure this will work but it should because obviously you got here and somehow that makes you maybe slightly not a demon so possibly we won't explode or melt or turn to ashes-"

"What?!"

"But I'm going to need you to possess me for just a bit, ok?"

"How exactly am I to do that?"

"Um, okay. I've only done this once but…" he took a deep breath in and slowly approached Crowley and nodded. "Ok, so just take a deep breath and sort of make yourself fluid then just, walk in."

"Fluid." Eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Just do it."

"Alright, alright." He shook his head out and took a deep breath and walked in a way like he only recently realised how legs worked. He closed his eyes as he approached Aziraphale and tried to not brace himself lest the fluidity collapses. He felt a blanket of warmth overtake him and once fully surrounded opened his eyes again. It was like seeing double vision, a layer of the view over itself, but smaller. "Ooo, that's weird."

"Hold on." Aziraphale looked over the edge and jumped with no time for either to prepare. 

"What the hel-hev- somewhere, what are you doing! Were going to die." Something pressed at their back, however, and giant custard white wings tipped with a dusty grey unfurled behind to slow them before folding up to start the free fall again. Crowley screamed the whole way down, which took far shorter than expected.

"Calm down dear, we're here." The screaming eased into heavy breathing. Aziraphale made his way to the door of the ex-antichrist's house. He knocked and greeted the man with a strained smile. "Ah Mr. Young, it's certainly been quite a while. I just came by to see how Adam was doing after that whole fiasco"

"Oh, yes of course. Come right on in. Where's your companion? You two didn't strike me as being apart all that much." He led the two of them inside. Whatever Adam had done to convince his father they were welcome and trusted was certainly useful.

"Oh, he'll be along shortly." Aziraphale took a seat in the soft plush armchair, accepting the cup of earl grey.

"Adam, some of your friends are here! Well, I still have some work to finish, if you don't mind."

"Oh no, not at all, thank you for the tea." He went off just as Adam came into the sitting room. 

"There's two of you again." He plainly observed

"Yes, i was wondering if you could perhaps help with that?" He set down the cuppa on the side table to fold his hands in his lap.

"How could that child help with this?" Crowley finally spoke up.

"I can't help, but I don't need to. One of you just needs to leave and it'll go back to how it should." He turned to started away.

"Really? Wait, how is that?" Crowley leaned them forward.

"God wills it. Its written all over you. And don't worry about the others. They won't bother you anymore." He left and the two of them sat there in surprised relief.

"Okay, well this is your body, so I suppose I'll try leaving then." Aziraphale readied himself and stood, leaving Crowley behind in his true form, eyes widened. "You alright, everything feel normal?"

"Oh, oh angel, i remember. Come here." He latched on to solid shoulders dressed in a new old-looking outfit, just like the other. Aziraphale hugged him back, finally in his own body. "You know, up there i had this lovely little cottage, but it just had far too few books and angels around, you know?"

"Will you ever tell me about how it was sometime?"

Crowley buried his head in the blond curls and hummed. "Yeah. Sometime. But right now we should find a nice spring festival and some flowers to decorate the bookshop with. Maybe clean it up a bit. All that bust can't be good for your wings."

"My wings- what…?"

"The tips are absolutely coated angel, I don't know how you couldn't notice." Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at his presently hidden wings.

"They've never quite looked like that before, they look more like a bird's-" he stopped at the realization and chuckled to himself. "That seems like a lovely idea dear." They left the room with a snap, depositing the clean tea cup back in the cupboard.


End file.
